CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
LONDON

Griffin showed up again this morning with coffee, vanilla almond milk included, one chocolate milk, and gourmet style muffins from a local bakery. This tour is already hell on my diet. I was ready for him this morning though. I woke up before the sun broke through the windows and least ditched my morning top knot for my fully dressed and wide-awake top knot. Being up that early also meant I could shamelessly watch the Amaryllis morning workout routine from the main window in the bus. I wasn’t wrong when I said it sounded like they were training for an Iron Man competition. Every member of the band and most of their security team were lifting weights, running a make-shift obstacle course using what looked like spare tires, and going to town on a couple of punching bags.

I’m not ashamed to admit it was a great view.

No regrets.

I take a sip of my coffee, remembering how Griffin’s muscles tensed every time he lifted the barbell off the ground. Mmm. “I am starting to get used to these early morning coffee deliveries. One might even say you’re spoiling me.”

“Ask and you shall receive, m’lady,” he says in an accent that sounds like it belongs in a low-budget adaptation of Oliver Twist… very low-budget.

“I see the accents haven’t improved,” a giggle escapes as I go to take another sip of coffee.

Griffin clicks on the news, keeping the volume down since Casey and Carter are still sleeping. A massive headline rolls across the screen over a picture of the man I now know is Stone Thompson, Former Amaryllis Member Released on Bond to Await Trial over Assault and Drug Possession Charges.

Griffin’s eyes grow wide, but he stays silent. Totally not normal for him.

“How long have you known he was out?” I ask.

“I just found out yesterday.”

I nod slowly, trying to decide if I should kill him or not. “Okay, so let’s get one thing out on the table now.”

His face shifts from Uh oh to Oh, no! They are very different looks. One is the look you give when you are accused of stealing cookies out of the cookie jar. The other is the look you give when your mom tells you she’s fixing dinner, so no snacks, and you still get caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

Got it?

Okay, good.

Moving on…

I turn myself around on the sofa to look him square in the eye, tucking my legs underneath me in typical crisscross applesauce fashion. “I understand this dynamic is totally new,” I say, waving my hand back and forth in the empty space between us, “but one thing we need to understand is that safety is a primary concern for me. Especially with Carter being here.”

“No, I totally get it.” He places his hand on mine, which is resting on my knee, and leans forward so I get a full whiff of his freaking amazing cologne. Stop it. Stop it, right now. “I should have told you yesterday.”

“Yes, you should have.” I pull my hand back and cross my arms over my chest. “Especially if he’s half as unhinged as you say he is.”

He nods. “He is, and you’re right.” He takes a deep breath and I immediately feel myself tense in response to the nervous energy flowing from him right now. “I need to tell you something.”

“What?” I deadpan.

He clears his throat and opens up the screen on his phone. He scrolls until he finds what he is looking for. He hands me his phone, so I can read the message chain. It’s a conversation with Devon from yesterday where he found out that Stone was trying to get into our little camp.

I blink twice and swallow hard as I process what I just read. “Should I be concerned?” I glance up letting my gaze linger on the door to Carter’s quarters.

“No.” He shakes his head. “Stone’s a hot-head, but his issues are with me. They definitely don’t involve you, or Carter.”

I nod. “Everything that happens on this tour involves me and Carter to some extent.”

“You’re right,” he agrees and sips his coffee. “We’ve upped the security detail during stops and at shows. Every single guard is on-duty when we stop the buses, until Stone is either in jail or in rehab.”

That does help to ease some of my anxiety, but not nearly enough of it. I have seen them in action, they are great at what they do, but people like Stone do not take no for an answer. “I’ve been up close and personal to addiction with Carter’s father. It’s not pretty.”

“No, it’s not.” He clenches his jaw and leans back against the sofa cushion. “I don’t want either of you in danger, ever. If you want to stop the bus right now, I’ll have Nigel find a driver to take you home.” I think I heard his voice waver on the last word.

“I don’t want to go home.” I am finally refusing to live my life by Nick’s standards and fully embracing who I really am, a feeling I am not willing to turn loose of that easily, but I’m also not willing to sacrifice Carter’s safety for anything. “How do we make sure Carter’s safe?”

“I can pull two guards from stage duty when we stop and assign them to Carter.” He nods his head toward the television where Stone’s image is paused on the screen. “He’s a pain in the ass, but he’s also a coward. He won’t pick a fight he knows he can’t win.”

“That sounds familiar,” I say before I even realize the words are leaving my mouth.

“What’s that mean?” He asks with a quizzical expression twisting his handsome face.

I shake my head and push my lips together. I’m pretty sure I’m making a duck face right now. “I shouldn’t have even brought it up.”

“Nonsense. If you brought it up, then it’s something that matters to you. You can tell me, London.”

For some reason, I believe him, and I hate that I do. “Fine,” I sigh. “Carter’s father was an addict. He may still be. I really don’t know. I haven’t talked to him since before Carter was even born.”

“I remember you telling me that he bolted when he found out you were pregnant.”

“Yeah,” I nod. “I didn’t tell you that he was abusive, and I almost lost Carter because of the abuse. I had to go to the hospital because I was losing so much blood. That was when I found out I was pregnant. So, when I say that I need to know, I need to know. Protecting Carter is literally my only concern.”

“Understood.” He puts his hand on my leg, it’s a sweet reassuring gesture.

“I’m confused by something.”

“What is it?”

I’m not even sure I should be asking about it, but it’s bugging me. “Why was Carly the one who was able to get through to him?”

“She’s his sister,” he says as if I should have already known that. “She’s also the only one who can get through to him when he gets like that.”

“Does he get like that often?”

He shakes his head, but then grimaces. “Lately, he’s been more of a wild card. We are all pretty sure he’s moved on to harder stuff and in the process made himself someone completely unrecognizable. He was always a dick, but now he’s… someone else. But sometimes Carly can break through to the Stone we all used to know.”

I nod my head slowly processing everything. “And why would that piss Adair off?”

He chuckles and brings the coffee cup to his mouth as he hooks an eyebrow up and glances at me from the corner of his eye.

“They’re a thing?”

He shakes his head no. “Not anymore, anyway.”

“It’s not my business.” I hold my hands up. “I’m just trying to assess where Carter and I fit into this scenario, and if I should run and scream the other direction, or not.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did.” He scrolls through the channels, no doubt trying to find something to watch besides Stone’s face. “I really hope you don’t though.” The vulnerability in his voice catches me off guard.

“I won’t,” I promise, and I mean it even though I cannot believe I’m saying it. “Unless Carter’s safety becomes an issue, then I’m out.”

“Understood.” He takes a deep breath and then sits his coffee mug on the counter that is attached to the side of the sofa. “I really do think they would be a great match if Adair would just get over himself.”

“You think so?” I don’t know either of them well enough to make any kind of judgment call, but Carly has, so far, seemed to be sweet and very helpful while Adair has been the typical rockstar prima donna.

He finally settles on a home improvement show and clicks to select it. “Is this okay?” he asks as the intro begins to play. “I don’t think I can watch Stone’s mug any longer.”

I chuckle and nod. “It’s fine.”

“So… I might as well catch you up to speed. If you are going to be with us, then you need to know the ins and the outs of why everything is the way it is.”

“It would be helpful.” I settle into my spot on the small sofa to listen.

“Carly has made heart-eyes at Adair since long before we even started touring. She would watch him during our garage band practice sessions.”

Makes sense. “Because Stone played with you guys? Little sisters always want to be part of their older brother’s hobbies.”

“Sure,” he smiles, but it quickly fades and is replaced by a scowl. “But she can’t stand him anymore than the rest of us. She wasn’t there for him. She was there for Adair.”

“Childhood sweethearts,” I swoon, “be still my beating heart.” I clutch my hands to my chest.

Griffin’s laugh falls easy on my ears. I like seeing how easily I can help him relax with just a little light-hearted teasing. His shoulders immediately fall just enough I can tell his tension is subsiding. “It wasn’t quite as sweet as that. Adair was a dick back then just like he is now. The neighborhood hated us, but Carly always sat in the corner and watched him rip the bass to shreds, just like she does at every show and even when Stone didn’t show up for practice. Her time with the street team, helping us load-in for soundchecks, even now… It’s always been entirely for Adair. She just always tried to keep it to herself, but we all knew. We still know. Adair’s the only one who always has his head shoved so far up his ass he can’t see it.”

The lighthearted feeling, I had just a second ago, has been replaced with heartache. I feel terrible for this woman who I barely know. “That has to be so hard on her, watching the women come and go from his dressing room every night.”

He nods. “I’m sure it is. He wants so much more, but he’s not willing to bring more to the table.”

“Why not?” I’m seriously afraid to ask and silently cursing myself for asking the question.

He chuckles louder this time. “He’s afraid of hurting her.”

“I can understand that. The rockstar life has to be hell on a relationship.”

He leans in letting his breath tickle the sensitive skin at the base of my neck. “It doesn’t have to be.” His eyes smolder as he lets his gaze travel slowly to my lips where it lingers, until they start to drift downwards again…

“Hey,” I say, lifting his chin with one finger, so he is looking me in the eye again. “Keep your eyes up here, huh?” Truth be known, I don’t mind his eyes trailing across my body. The only issue for me is that it makes me want to feel his hands and mouth following the same path. That is a dangerous feeling. I can’t let myself get caught up in this man. It’ll only lead to heartbreak for me—and for Carter—and that’s unacceptable.

He shifts in his seat. “I’m a guy, you’re beautiful. I can’t be held responsible.” He cringes after he finishes the last sentence.

“So, you’re just incapable of controlling yourself around any beautiful female.” I make a checkmark in the air with my hand. “Got it. That will be filed away for future use.”

“No, wait. That’s not what I meant…” he stammers, tripping all over his words.

“Don’t worry about it, Rockstar Romeo.” I hold my hand up.

“Great.” He grips his neck and drags it down his shoulder. “You know I’m not like that. You have to know that by now.”

“Do I?” I smirk.

He tilts his head to the side and rolls his eyes. “Like you have to ask.”

“I’m serious.”

“If you don’t, then I’ll just have to show you how serious I am.”

Swoon. I feel guilty that he feels the need to prove himself to me, but… “Challenge accepted.”

He narrows his eyes and studies my expression for what seems like an eternity. “Are you serious?”

I hold up my fingers in a V shape with my thumb sticking out. “Scout’s honor.”

“That’s the Vulcan salute.”

“Crap.” I shrug it off. “A bet is a bet.”

He leans closer giving me a close view of those gorgeous eyes. “So, we’re actually doing this?” His morning scruff brushes against my skin as his lips press against my cheek. It’s a sweet gesture, but it lights my soul on fire.

I didn’t expect that. “If you can prove to me that you’re serious, and full of that toxic masculinity B.S., then I’ll drop my guard around you Mister Rockstar Romeo.” If he only knew how much of my guard, I already let down for him… The feeling of his lips on my skin is enough to make me feel like I’m going to spontaneously combust. His kiss was soft and gentle, but strong.

Just like him.

Involuntarily, I reach up to touch the spot where his lips just were. His kiss branded my skin, and I don’t think I mind. It’s dangerous to let myself feel this way about someone, especially when that someone is Rockstar Romeo.

I’m hopeless.

Hopelessly in lo—. Nope. Not going there.

In desperate need of a change of subject before I melt into a puddle of mushy feelings at his feet, I slap my hands down on my legs and push myself up from the sofa. “C’mon.”

He gulps down the rest of his coffee and hops up to follow me. “Where are we going?”

“Right here,” I say, pulling a mix of fresh vegetables from the mini-fridge. “You’re going to help me make lunch.”

He takes the mixed peppers from my hand and gives me a sideways glance. “It’s only eight a.m.”

I chuckle and pat him on the back. He’s even got muscles back there. “It needs to chill for a couple of hours after we make it.”

“Got it.” He flips a jalapeno around in his hand. “So… what do I do with these?”

I pass him a knife from the top drawer. “Chop it up.”

“On it.” He grabs a bowl from the overhead compartment and fills it with water. “Little trick my mama taught me.”

“I’m impressed. There aren’t too many men in my life who know how to keep the jalapeno from infecting the air.”

He laughs and dumps all the peppers into the bowl. “Having a house full of kids yelling because their eyes felt like they were on fire for a half-hour after dinner ensures that you learn a few tricks of the trade.”

“I think I would’ve loved your mom.”

A smile spreads across his face as his gaze seems a million miles away. I can’t help but wonder what childhood memory is playing through his mind right now. I’m guessing it’s got something to do with jalapenos though. “I think she would’ve loved you,” he finally says.

My heart beats a little faster and heat spreads through my body. It’s a beautiful compliment, but it makes me nervous and I don’t even know why.  My phone starts scooting across the tiny counter making a sound that resembles a pissed off tweety-bird.

Griffin laughs at my lame ringtone. He covers his mouth to hide it. “That,” he spits and sputters, “burns. Oh gawd, it burns.” He’s busy rummaging in the mini-fridge for milk to put out the fire from the jalapeno seeds when I tap to answer the incoming video-call.

“Hi, Mom,” I laugh, as Griffin finally pulls milk from the back of the fridge. “Don’t mind him. This is totally normal.”

She lets out a loud laugh that echoes through the speakers. “I know that look,” she says, studying the man behind me who is chugging milk from a kid’s meal sized carton. “You’re making your pasta, aren’t you?”

“We might be.” I scrunch my face up and tilt my head so she can see the tiny kitchen area. “It’s a little difficult, but we’re making it work.”

“That’s my girl,” she says with a smile before going back to studying Griffin who is currently wearing a milk mustache over his morning scruff. I have to say, the scruff is better sans milk mustache. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your kitchen fiasco this morning, but I just wanted to let you know that your father was able to get Friday off work so we’ll be coming in a day early. We’ll land in Phoenix on Friday around seven p.m. your time.”

“Seven?” I cringe and feel half my face wrinkle up. “Griffin, aren’t we on at nine?”

He nods as he wipes the remains of the last gulp of milk from his mouth.

“That’s…” I shake my head. “Dude.”

“I’m sorry,” he squeaks. “It burned.”

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. “We might need to send a driver to pick them up since they’re landing at seven.”

“Nonsense,” my mom says through the speaker. “Your father is figuring out the Uber as we speak.”

The? Uber? That would be an utter disaster. “Mom, we can’t really have you guys getting off the plane in a strange city and trying to figure out how to catch an Uber all at once. That’s a lot of new stuff happening there. I’m not sure my anxiety is comfortable with any of it.”

“We’ll be fine. Griffin’s already done more than enough with the plane and pilot. He’s such a nice young man. Your father spent a half an hour on the phone talking to him yesterday.”

“Half an—” My dad has always had the ability to hold a conversation with anyone he meets, even if it’s sometimes against their will. I shake my head to redirect my thoughts. “I hope you guys have a great flight, but we’re definitely going to send a car.” I catch a glimpse of Griffin in the video frame.

He’s standing behind me jiggling a set of keys with a fish-eating grin plastered on his face. “The support acts can have added time for a few extra songs. They’ll be excited, and I’ve got access to the label’s car anytime I need it,” he says.

“Honey, do you even know where the airport is from where you’ll be,” my mom asks.

I shake my head and shrug. “Google Maps for the win.”

“Richard!” my mom yells to my dad who is apparently forty-seven rooms away. Ow. “The kids will pick us up. No need to figure out the Uber. Okay, I have to go find your father. Love you.”

The kids.

Great.

“Love you too, Mom.” I hear Griffin laughing behind me. “Don’t start with me, Mister Milk Mustache.” I can’t help but smile as I tap to end the call. This man has been a complete contradiction since the day we met, but he’s never once failed to do everything he possibly can to make this whole experience as non-weird as possible. Griffin Miller is absolutely the nicest guy I’ve ever met. He’s also the most terrifying. Nash’s words echo through my mind, “…until we all turn into pumpkins again.” I’m definitely going to be turning into that pumpkin in just a few short weeks, but not Griffin. He’ll go on being the rockstar center of attention that he always is, whether he wants to be or not. That’s probably why he’s so involved now. There’s no long-term commitment. What rockstar playboy can do long-term? None. Maybe a light-hearted adventure is just what the doctor ordered. I could let myself enjoy the moment, without hoping for more, if that moment is with Griffin Miller.

“Oh,” he nudges me in the side, “I forgot to tell you something else.”

“Great.” I roll my eyes and throw my head back in super dramatic fashion. “What is it?”

He scrolls on his phone and stops on an order confirmation page. “I ordered this for Carter last night after we got back from the mall.”

“Is that the one he was looking at in the shop?”

“Yep,” he says proudly. “It’s the exact same one.”

The price tag has more numbers than my mortgage. I probably look like one of those old school cartoons where the character’s feet lift off the floor while their eyes literally pop out of their sockets. “Griffin, that’s too much. Here…” I go to grab my purse from the bathroom.

“No.” He shakes his head and grabs hold of my arm. “I don’t want you trying to pay me back.”

“It’s too much.”

“The joy that he showed while he was playing on it, London… it was beautiful. He should have it and I’m happy to be the one to get it for him.” He’s studying my expressions and probably trying to decide if I’m happy or pissed or both. I’m not even sure right now. “I didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries. That’s the last thing I’d want to do.”

I believe him.

It’s still too much.

“After our parents died, we couldn’t afford to get me a guitar even though I desperately wanted one, so our neighbor stepped in and helped. He knew there was absolutely no way Nash would’ve accepted the help, so he wrapped it up and left it in the back seat of our car one morning with a note saying, you’ve been given a gift, use it to spread joy.” He chokes on the words and rubs his eye. “Damn peppers,” he sniffs.

“Right. The peppers.” That has to be it.

“I don’t know how to forget that, so I just want to pay it forward. If Carter is who I can pay it forward to then nothing would make me happier.”

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Sigh. “I don’t know how to pay you back for everything you’ve already given us. I can’t keep adding to the tab.”

“You have already given me… us,” he spreads his arms wide gesturing to the busses following us, “we owe you, London. It’s not the other way around.”

“Thank you,” I say as I go back to the peppers. “He’ll be thrilled.” I don’t know how to protect my heart from this man. Every single time I think I’ve got my defenses in full force he barrels right through them. I can’t see a single scenario where this doesn’t end in complete and total heartbreak for me.